


a bird in the hand (is worth more than you could ever know)

by MadHattie



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, development of a relationship, mostly pre-gaia sash, probably updates weekly but we'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattie/pseuds/MadHattie
Summary: Hurley goes looking for a criminal and finds something even better.(being gay is more important than the law)





	1. Chapter 1

The garage was on the south side of Goldcliff, far from the stunning views of sheer drops and waterfalls. A few blocks further out, the city streets started to give way to vast stretches of scrub and dirt. This place rested on the blurry line between something and nothing, an area that didn't quite fit any descriptors that were applied to it.  There was nothing to see, and that made it the perfect place to do something without prying eyes keeping watch.

The lawn outside of the garage was something of a junkyard, broken old wagon parts stacked up in crumbling towers among the weeds. Some of the debris looked new and shiny, while other parts were rusted and crumbling. Hurley wound her way cautiously through the maze of dented hubcaps and worn-down tires. She was there on a tip off- another racer had offered to give up her location in return for having to spend less time in jail after trying to steal a militia weapons shipment. She could only hope that the man was telling the truth, and that she wasn’t about to step into a room full of traps, or worse, another dead end. She had been tracking the Raven for weeks now with no luck. It was getting to the point that others in the militia were telling her that she should just give up and use her talents elsewhere. But Hurley wasn’t one to give up, especially on things that frustrated her. 

 

The building at the center of the chaos wasn't an impressive setup, like what she had seen when she scoped out the Hammerhead’s base (so she was more than a little interested in battle wagons, sue her). It’s low to the ground, with few windows, and one large door that was wide open. Inside, Hurley could see a relatively small jet-black wagon up on a lift. Below that, she could see what she assumed was someone lying on their back. A pair of big black work boots on the end of a pair of skinny legs that disappeared under the wagon. With any luck, this was the person that she was looking for. 

“Excuse me.” Before Hurley could say anything else, she heard a loud  _ thump, _ followed seconds later by the person under the wagon shouting “fuck!” The figure scooted out from under the car and sat up. The tan of her skin did little to hide the bright red mark on her forehead, or the pink flush at the tips of her ears. 

“Sorry, you surprised me there.” The woman stood, rising to look down on Hurley from above and twitching her ears in curiosity. Young adult half-elf, slim build, medium height, tan skin, and long black hair. Everything seemed to fit the description she was given.

“Are you the Raven?” The words came out rushed, and Hurley cursed herself for not being more subtle. 

“Yeah,” the woman quirked an eyebrow and her ears perked up in curiosity, “are you a fan? I think I would have remembered seeing a pretty face like yours before.”

“I-” Hurley stuttered “I guess you could say that. I saw you at the bank on the corner of Rose and 25th last Friday.” It was a lie, but a plausible one. The bank had been packed when the Raven wound in and around the lines of people, grabbing more than a dozen wallets before strolling out the front door. She was long gone by the time someone noticed the theft. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t pick  _ your _ pocket, did I?” The Raven's tone seemed almost embarrassed.

“No, no. I just saw you hit your last few targets, and then I was there for the aftermath.”

“Oh man, I wish I could have seen their faces,” the Raven laughed, “I only target people who look like they have money to spare, but rich people get so pissy about losing money. It’s like they forget that they make more money in a month than I’ll see in my whole life.”

“What did you spend the loot on?” Hurley asked, curious in the face of the Raven’s flippant demeanor.

“I got myself a nice meal, and then spent the rest on food and clothes for the local kids. It always seems like a lot when I first lift it, but it never goes very far.”

“Kids?” Hurley furrowed her brow.

“Yeah, you didn't think I was taking this all for myself, did you?” The Raven laughed, “even with battlewagon expenses, I could never use all that money for myself. Nah, I’m trying to help them out, make sure that they can get by without stealing so that they don’t have to end up like me. I’m surprised you saw me, though. Usually I’m in and out quick enough that no one notices.”

“I have a good eye for that kind of work.” Well, that was one way to put it

The Raven extended her hand. “I’m Sloane, by the way. If you can spot me at work, then you shouldn’t have to call me by my moniker.”

Hurley reached out and took Sloane’s hand in her own. It was warm and rough and so much larger than her own. “Hurley. Lieutenant Hurley of the Goldcliff militia.”

Sloane’s hand froze mid-handshake, but Hurley didn’t pause to give it much thought before twisting Sloane's wrist, grabbing hold of her elbow, and spinning her around until she skidded face-first onto the oil-stained concrete.  
"Damn," Sloane mumbled as she tried to wiggle her way out of Hurley’s pin, “and here I thought a cute girl was actually interested in me for once.”  
“Oh, I’m still interested.” Hurley smiled, knowing that Sloane couldn’t see her face. “Mostly I’m interested in how exactly you’ve spent the thousands of gold you’ve stolen in the past month alone. But I’m also interested in seeing what kind of person the Raven really is.”

“Well, here’s a glimpse for ya.” Sloane extended her free hand towards a pile of junk on the floor and grabbed a small cylinder. Hurley barely had time to think before Sloane flipped the top of the canister and the air filled with stinging smoke. Without thinking, Hurley loosened her grip on Sloane's arm and covered her own mouth. As soon as Hurley’s grip weakened, the other woman pulled out of her grasp and broke into a run.

“See you around, Hurley,” she called from somewhere beyond the smoke. “Hope you like the pepper bomb.” 

By the time Hurley could stop coughing, Sloane was already gone.   



	2. Chapter 2

For more than a month Hurley kept the Raven's garage at the back of her mind. She didn’t tell Captain Bane about meeting the Raven there, instead she lied and told him that the tip-off had been a dud, that the Raven was gone and the garage was abandoned. She wasn’t just trying to hide her own mistake, although she was glad that she didn’t have to tell the captain that she let a criminal get away. There was just something about her meeting with Sloane that struck her: the genuine friendliness that the other woman had displayed, and how trusting she seemed to be of a person she had only just met. Not to mention the casual flirting, which still made Hurley blush when she thought about it.

It was her desire to learn more about Sloane that finally drove her back to the garage. She took off early from work, making an excuse about having a doctor’s appointment before hurrying out the door and down the dusty road.

The garage looked about the same as it had when she last saw it- cluttered in a way that spoke of resourcefulness rather than pure messiness. This time she chose not to slink between the towering piles of scrap. Instead she braced herself, walked directly through the gate and made a beeline for the garage door.

The door was propped open again, and inside she could see the sleek black wagon up on a lift.  Underneath were a telltale pair of long legs. Hurley wondered how Sloane felt so comfortable in a vulnerable position like that, especially after she had come and almost arrested her. She couldn’t even see any weapons near the car that Sloane could grab, though whatever tool she was using on the wagon might be useful in a fight. She was starting to think that Sloane had just gotten lucky during their first encounter. 

“Come on in, just as long as you promise not to arrest me,” a voice called, breaking Hurley away from her thoughts. She walked up to the garage door just as Sloane pushed herself out from underneath the wagon. She stood up, wiping her hands on her greasy overalls and adjusting her too-small t-shirt. By the time Hurley realized that she was staring, Sloane already had a smirk creeping into the corners of her mouth.

“How did you know it was me?” Hurley tried not to look Sloane in the eyes, which was surprisingly easy, as Sloane was at least two feet taller than her. 

“I heard the gate open, and most of the people who visit me here tend to announce themselves, especially after I almost got arrested by a certain someone, so it was an educated guess.”

“Ah.” Hurley rocked back and forth on her feet, not sure what else to say. 

“So are you here for a second try at catching me or what? You’ve lost the element of surprise, so you’re not gonna pin me again, unless you want to pin me for a different reason.” Sloane leaned forward and gave an exaggerated wink. 

“No I-I just…” Hurley sighed. “You confused me when I last came here. You don’t seem like a bad person, but you do things that say the opposite. I just don’t get the way you think! Like, why are you even here! I found you hideout- I could show up at any time with a whole militia squadron, but you’re still here working on your wagon without any defenses! That doesn’t make sense!”

“I actually didn’t come back to the garage for a week after you came. Paid a kid to keep watch from across the street. When nobody showed, I figured I wasn’t a big deal and you weren’t coming to get me, so I just came back. Besides, I didn’t want to leave this old thing alone for too long.” With that she reached over and knocked on the hood of the wagon. 

“You’re really attached to that thing, huh?” Hurley leaned forward to inspect the vehicle.The wagon was entirely black, but upon closer inspection it seemed to be cobbled together, like every piece was made for a different car. The doors all looked like they had been ripped off and then welded back on, and the front of the car had been fitted with a bumper much too large for it. 

“Mmm, not the wagon itself so much as, like, racing, which I can’t do without it.”

“It seems like you put a lot of work into it, too,” Hurley said, nodding. Sloane gave her a strange look and Hurley stumbled over her words. “I- I mean, it looks like you’ve swapped out a lot of parts from whatever you used as the base, and judging by the fact that you’ve won a couple of races, the interior’s probably nothing to sneeze at either.”

“So you  _ do  _ watch the races,” Sloane crowed. “And here I thought you were miss lawful good rule follower.”

“It’s not illegal to watch the races, just to participate in them,” Hurley protested, “And I think that you’re being a bit unfair with your judgement.”

“You pinned me to the ground and tried to arrest me, homie.”

“Okay, you got me there.” 

“So,” Sloane leaned over the hood of the wagon so that her face was eye-level with Hurley’s, “what got you into racing?”

“Uh, I dunno.” Hurley tried her hardest not to stare at Sloane’s eyes, so dark brown that they were almost black, just like her own. “Cheap thrills I guess. It's nice to let loose and get the adrenaline pumping.”

“It’s even better when you’re driving.” Sloane smirked. “Oh, if only there was some way that you could experience it for yourself! Like, say, if a beautiful and generous driver offered to give you a ride around the desert. Now wouldn’t that be something.”

“Are you offering me a ride? Me, the cop who tackled you and tried to arrest you?”

Sloane waved her hand lazily. “Let’s just say that I don’t put too much stock in first impressions.

“This isn’t just a ruse so that you can kill me a throw my body off a cliff, is it?”

“C’mon Lieutenant, do I really seem like that kind of person?”

“To be honest, I have no idea what kind of person you are anymore. I thought I knew, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Well why don’t you let me show you?” Sloane stood up and moved to the winch on the wall of the garage, lowering the car down slowly. 

“Are you sure that this thing is ready to drive?” Hurley asked as Sloane beckoned her to climb in through the window of the welded-shut passenger door.

“Hell yeah! All the essentials are in good condition, I was just working on a secret surprise for the next race. Watch so you don’t hit that button there, I don't want that going off inside the garage.”

Hurley settled down into the cracked leather seat and searched for a seatbelt. When none could be found, she clutched the handle that was glued to the inside of the door.

“You all set? I don't usually have passengers, so I guess just secure yourself as best you can.”

“I changed my mind. You don’t have to kill me yourself; your wagon will do it for you.”

Sloane laughed. “I’m not gonna kill you, I don't do shit like that.” She eased the wagon out of the garage, kicking up dust from the yard. “Just like I don't race or steal because I'm totally evil. I just think that the system is totally unbalanced, so I go around it. And when I do, I try to make sure that I don’t hurt anyone too badly.”

“Sounds like a good code to live by.” As the wagon picked up speed, Hurley was suddenly aware that her feet couldn’t even reach the floor of the vehicle.

“It works for me.” Sloane wove through half a dozen narrow side streets, cutting through a patch of land that might have been someone’s yard, before driving out onto the wide, flat expanse of the desert. There was nothing resembling a road, but there were also no obstructions besides a few bushes and rocks. Between the empty brown land and the pale, cloudless sky, it seemed like the whole world was there for them to tear through. 

“You ready?” Sloane asked. Hurley nodded. “Alright, brace yourself, ‘cause I can make this thing go real fast.”

With that as her warning, Sloane pressed the gas pedal to the floor, making Hurley jerk back into her seat. The air and dust whipped through the open windows, catching in the corners of her eyes and making her squint against it.  Sloane made a sharp turn to avoid a rock and the two of them crashed together in their seats as their bodies tried to resist the change in direction. Before long they were laughing as they rocketed off into the wasteland. 

 

Hurley couldn’t tell you how long they drove around in circles, scaring themselves until their hearts beat out of their chests. It felt at once like it had been forever and no time at all. When they finally settled down, Sloane drove them back to the garage, a smile plastered on her face. 

Hurley climbed out of the car and squared her shoulders, looking up to meet Sloane’s gaze. “Thanks for the ride. That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“You’re welcome to come back and do it again. Hell, next time I might even let you drive.”

Hurley grinned. “In that case, you’ll be seeing me again real soon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up so late! I got about halfway through the race before realizing that it should probably be its own chapter lol

“I want you to teach me how to race”

Sloane looked up from the box of spare bolts that she was sorting through. “I want to say that I’m surprised, but honestly I really can’t be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hurley leaned up against the wagon and folded her arms over her chest.

“It means that you’ve come to visit me a bunch of times, but all you ever want to do is drive around.” Sloane leaned back and sighed dramatically. “You just like me for my wagon. Soon you’ll abandon me for someone with a sweeter ride.”

“Oh come on.” Hurley punched Sloane in the arm playfully, although with the way Sloane winced, she might have done it harder than she meant to. “Besides, if I left, then you could just tell everyone that the new racer was a lieutenant in the militia and then I would be out of a job.”

“Only if you didn’t have me arrested first.”

“You got me there. I guess we have to stick together to make sure that we can keep our secrets.,” Hurley said, laughing. “So come on, teach me how to race! You already taught me the basics of driving, so it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“You’re really gonna be stubborn about this, huh?” Sloane shook her head. “I can show you what I know about, like, dodging other cars and fighting while moving and stuff, but the races are different every time. It’s hard to prepare by doing anything other than driving in them yourself.”

“So bring me with you.”

“What!?”

“I’m serious, if you think that the only way to learn is by doing, then I want to race with you. Plus, you mentioned that you had a hard time countering attacks while driving. I can concentrate on kicking ass, and you can keep us going.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Sloane grinned, “I guess I could take on a racing partner. But you have to be absolutely sure that you want to do this. I don’t want you getting cold feet on race day.”

“Do I seem like the type to back down to you?” Hurley said.

“Hell no! That’s why I’m not even trying to stop you from doing this, even though it would get you in trouble at work if you got caught.”

“I would also get in trouble for hanging out with a known criminal and not arresting her, so I might as well go all-out,” Hurley said, and Sloane laughed so hard that she nearly folded in on herself.

“Alright, okay,” she said as soon as she caught her breath. “The next race is this Saturday. Are you good to go to that one?”

“Hell yeah I am.”

“Charging right ahead, huh?” Sloane hummed in thought. “That gives me an idea of what kind of mask you should wear.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about that part.” Hurley shook her head. “I don’t have any ideas, so I would be okay with anything you come up with.”

“You mean you haven’t spent hours on end thinking about what your fursona would be?” Sloane said in a mock-serious tone. “It’s no big deal. Some people choose masks that represent them in some way, and some people just choose masks because they look cool. I have a friend who makes masks for racers; I can ask them to whip you up a prototype for your first race.”

“Thanks,” Hurley smiled, “I can pay you back for it.”

“Nah, it’s fine. They owe me a favor so I can get you one for free.”

“Are you sure you’re not just going to steal it? Hurley joked, nudging Sloane with her elbow.

Sloane laughed. “Nah, I know you’re a stickler for the rules, so I won’t steal anything for you.”

“Oh that’s real courteous,” Hurley said, snorting. “I guess I’ll just forget about all the other theft you’ve done.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Sloane shrugged. “And anyway, you shouldn’t insult the person who’s graciously allowing you to become her racing partner.”

“Alright,  _ partner _ . Now why don’t you show me what all those buttons on the wagon do.”

 

 

Hurley arrived at the garage early Saturday morning when the sunlight was still weak and the buildings left long shadows that crisscrossed the streets. It was early enough, in fact that she got there before Sloane did, leaving her alone in a junkyard with a locked garage. She took a deep breath, assured herself that it was, in fact, the right day, and started pacing in circles around the yard. 

By the time Sloane arrived, all the bells in the city had rung in 10 a.m. and Hurley had practiced her katas at least three times each. As Sloane shuffled through the gate with a large box under her arm, Hurley sprang up from where she was sitting on the ground.

“Oh shit, I didn’t keep you waiting for long, did I?” Sloane scratched the back of her neck with her free hand.

“No, not too long,” Hurley lied.

“Great, awesome. Here, try this on.” Sloane pulled the box out from under her arm and handed it to Hurley. It was square and rectangular, almost like a shoebox, and it was tied closed with a piece of twine. Hurley picked the knot apart and opened up the lid. Inside was a beautiful white mask, long and smooth with two brown horns spiraling off of either side. When Hurley pulled it from the box it was light in her hands, the bulk of it made from some kind of leather. She placed it on her face, tying the fastening strings behind her head and peering out through the eyeholes.

“Does it fit okay? I told my friend that you were a halfling and gave them, like, a general description of your face, but I didn’t take any measurements.” Sloane bounced up and down on the tips of her toes. 

“Yeah, it fits well.” Hurley pulled the mask off and held it in her hands for a moment, studying it intensely. “Why the ram?”

“The way you act.” When Hurley looked at her questioningly, Sloane elaborated. “You charge right into things without fear. You came to find me on your own, and then you came back on your own even after I threw a fucking smoke bomb at you. Once you have an idea in your head, you won’t back down from it, even if it’s something as stupid as racing with me. That’s why you’re the ram.”

Hurley felt like the tips of her ears were on fire. “If you say so, Raven.”

Sloane reached into one of the many pockets of her coat and pulled out her own mask, sleek and black, layered with hundreds of tiny feathers. She slipped it down over her face and tied the cords tight.

“C’mon Ram,” she said, “Let’s win this thing.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Tuesday somewhere ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The air was hot and still within the confines of the starting box. It beaded sweat on the back of Hurley’s neck and stuck her fingers to the handle that she grabbed like a lifeline. It was stupid to be nervous about something that she had wanted so desperately, but here she was, nervous all the same. She wasn't sure how long they had been waiting for the race to start; time was an abstract concept in this place where the only light seeped in through cracks in the wood.

With nothing else to do, Hurley checked the supplies piled at her feet. A box full of smoke bombs, primed and ready to use. A hacksaw and a pair of bolt cutters in case anyone tried to latch onto their wagon. And, most importantly, an oak quarterstaff that was her only weapon. It could do a lot more damage than it looked like it could, but she was hoping that it wouldn't come to that.

A thunderous horn in the distance startled her out of her focus.

“That's our warning call,” Sloane said. Hurley could tell that she was trying to stay calm for her sake, but underneath that calm demeanor every muscle was taut, like a string about to break. Her hands clutched tight to the steering wheel, her foot perched perfectly over the gas pedal. 

“C’mon,” Sloane whispered to herself. “C’mon.”

Hurley opened her mouth to say something, a reassurance or encouragement, she wasn’t sure, but before the words could leave her mouth, the second horn sounded. There was a moment as the walls of the box dropped where the world was filled with light, and then the wagon rocketed forward and she was pressed back into her seat. 

“Keep a lookout for other wagons,” Sloane shouted over the noise of the engine. “Usually the big wagons try to take each other out early on, but they might see us as a threat if we get too far ahead too soon.” 

Hurley turned in her seat and surveyed their surroundings. Sure enough, a huge tank of a wagon and a wagon that actually had a giant tank of water strapped to the back were already exchanging blows. Ahead of them was a small, almost cylindrical wagon manned by two tieflings in horse masks, and another wagon that seemed to be hovering over the ground. 

“Should we be attacking the people ahead of us?” Hurley asked.

“Nah, it’s best to lay low at first. We can take them down once we’re closer to the finish. For now, just stay on defense.” Sloane swerved, narrowly avoiding a tire that had popped off someone’s wagon. “Speaking of…”

Just off to their right was a low, armored wagon that was keeping their pace. In the driver’s seat was an orc with a cow mask, but more troubling than him was the gnome in the eagle mask hanging off the side of the wagon with a sword in her hand. 

“Oh, no no no. Not dealing with that.” Hurley scooped up one of the smoke bombs from the box at her feet. She took only a second to aim before lobbing it at the other wagon’s open window. It hit the driver in the head just as the eagle-masked gnome was preparing to jump. As smoke filled the cab, the other wagon swerved, breaking the gnome’s grip and sending her tumbling through the air until her safety harness inflated with a _ pop.  _

“Nice one!” Sloane didn’t turn her head, but Hurley could see the grin on her face. “Make sure that guy’s not still tailing us, though.”

Hurley stuck her head through the window and leaned out. The cow-masked driver was lagging behind, steering farther and farther away from them. 

“He’s off course,” she yelled behind her. “We should be-” Her words were cut off by a sharp jerk around her middle as she was pulled out to the wagon by some invisible force. Just as her body left the window, a figure appeared out of the dust, shimmering like a mirage. It was a wagon, driven by two elves in chameleon masks. A third had their arms wrapped around Hurley, while a fourth held the third’s feet.

Hurley waited until they pulled her close enough to their wagon for her to land on it, then jerked back into her captor’s body and ducked out of their grasp. They toppled backwards with enough force to break their friend’s grasp, and Hurley was almost swept up with them. As her captor fell, Hurley grabbed the side of the wagon and swung feet-first into the rider’s face. There was a loud  _ crunch,  _ and the elves driving cursed nearly simultaneously. The one on the left turned, while the elf beneath Hurley’s feet clutched at her probably broken nose. As the driver reached to pull Hurley forward by her shirt, she grabbed his hand and twisted his wrist towards him until she heard the joint pop. Before the other driver could react, Hurley jumped into the front seat and elbowed her in the teeth.

They were too far away from Sloane’s wagon for her to jump back over, Hurley realized. Not only that, the injuries she had given the chameleon riders wouldn’t keep them incapacitated for long. She muscled the left driver out of the way as best she could and tried to steer while pressing down on the absurdly hard-to-reach pedals.

_ Godsdamn elves,  _ she thought,  _ why do they have to be so tall? _

She veered the wagon over towards where Sloane’s car was still racing forward, a black streak in the pale desert. She was still too far to the side, and slightly behind. Jamming one foot hard into the gas, Hurley held onto the wheel with one hand and tried to search the dashboard for anything that might giver her an extra boost. The elf beneath her stirred, so with her free foot she stepped down hard on his crotch. At random, she chose one of the switches and flipped it. The wagon shimmered, and Hurley felt a stir of magic around her. Probably something to do with the invisibility then. She flipped another switch, and the engine beneath her rumbled and accelerated. Hurley hung on as best she could, trying her best to get back to Sloane.

She was almost next to the black wagon when the elf with the broken nose finally got up and tried to pull her away from the steering wheel. Panicking, Hurley opened the driver’s door and tried to hang out of reach of the elf’s grasp.  _ Almost there. Almost there.  _ A hand swiped at the back of her shirt and she jumped, arms extended to grab onto anything that she could. She slammed hard into the side of the black wagon, just barely catching the open window with her fingertips. She held on as tight as she could, but she was slipping, the wind pulling her back. Her grip had almost broken when a hand reached from inside the car, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled.

“You okay?” Sloane was the picture of calm, as if she hadn’t just saved Hurley from falling off of a moving vehicle. Hurley nodded, and Sloane laughed, harder and harder until she was gasping for breath. “Holy shit, that was awesome! I can’t believe you just took out four people by yourself!”

Hurley was grinning so hard it hurt. “That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?”

“No, I brought you on because I like you a lot. This just made me like you more.” Sloane turned toward Hurley and the smile dropped off her face. “Watch out!”

Hurley grabbed her staff and whipped around. Another wagon had pulled up directly beside them, grinding metal on metal until sparks flew. The other wagon was larger and heavier, strong enough to push them off course. Through a small window she could see a human in a grinning crocodile mask.

Hurley took a deep breath and let it pool in her center, oxygen and fumes mixing with ki. She shaped the energy, smoothed it with her mind and let her anger turn it red-hot. It flowed like liquid metal, down through her arms and her hands until it collected at the tip of her staff. Then she lunged forward, jabbing her staff into the side of the wagon and blasting it backwards.

“Fuck off!” she screamed out the window as the wagon tumbled and rolled. Then she fell back into her seat, wheezing and giggling. She tried to raise her hand for a high-five, but it went limp at her side. “Damn, used too much energy on that one.”

“You saved our asses though,” Sloane was hunched over the wheel, as if willing the car to move faster. “Just a bit left, Hurls. Do you want to do the honors and press the big red button?”

“Oh hell yeah.” Hurley pulled the last of her strength together and slammed her hand down on the biggest button on the console. 

The two of them were pressed back into their seats, wind whipping tears into their eyes. Hurley heard the sound of screaming, only to realize that it was her, letting the speed and adrenaline pour out of her mouth unbidden. 

Then, just as suddenly as they had accelerated, Sloane slammed down on the brakes and turned the car in a full circle, whipping up dust and sand and sending rocks plummeting over the edge of the cliff. 

“Did we win?” Sloane squinted against the haze. “Holy shit Hurley, I think we won.” Sloane gripped Hurley’s arm. “We won! We did it! You won your first race!”

Hurley slumped into Sloane’s shoulder and yawned. “Wake me up when we get the prize money.”

“I can’t believe you,” Sloane said, and Hurley could hear the smile in her voice as she drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Hurley woke wrapped in the smell of garlic. She blinked her bleary eyes and looked up at a blank ceiling. Her ceiling? No, she didn’t recognize the couch she was lying on, or the blanket on top of her. For a moment she panicked, breath catching in her throat as she tried to figure out where she was. Then she remembered the race, falling asleep on Sloane’s shoulder. She was somewhere safe, then. 

She followed the smell of garlic to the next room over, a small kitchen lit in warm yellow. Sloane was standing at the stove, her back to Hurley. She was stirring a pan full of sauce and humming, soft and tuneless.

“Is that dinner?” Sloane jolted, splattering sauce on the wall. 

“Do you ever make any noise when you move?” Hurley smirked as a reply. “I’m serious, you could be standing right next to me and I wouldn’t know you were there.”

“You never answered my question.”

“Yeah, this is dinner. Hope you like pasta because that’s all I feel like cooking.” Sloane grabbed a rag from the counter and moved to wipe up the sauce she had splattered. “When you passed out on me, I didn’t know how long you were going to be out, and I, uh, don’t know where you live, so I brought you here.” She gestured widely with her arms. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“It’s nice.” Hurley sat down at the little table. The wood was worn in a way that spoke of many owners. “You didn’t have to bring me here, you know. You could have just left me at the garage and I would have been fine.”

“Maybe you can sleep on a workbench without feeling like death in the morning, but I sure as hell can’t.” Sloane stirred the pot. “Besides, I trust you enough at this point to let you know where I live.”

“Huh,” Hurley rubbed at her wrist, still sore from where Sloane had pulled her back through the window. She could have just let Hurley go; her safety harness would have saved her. But Sloane pulled her back in, and now here she was sitting in Sloane’s kitchen and watching her cook pasta. Less than a day later, and the fear and adrenaline was gone. All that was left was a spark of happiness that lit up every time she thought about their victory.

“I still can’t believe we won.” Hurley’s voice was quiet, barely louder than the sizzle of the stovetop or the whirr of the fan in the corner. 

“It’s all thanks to your kickass ninja moves,” Sloane joked. “If you hadn’t pushed away that last car, we would have placed a lot farther behind. You won the race for us, Hurls.”

“I couldn’t have done it on my own though,” Hurley said. “Not without your equally kickass driving.”

“Let’s just say that we work better together.” Sloane smiled, and for a moment the soft light caught in the waves of her hair, the curve of her nose, the sparkle in her deep, dark eyes. In that moment, the light didn’t seem to come from around her, but from inside of her.

“Hey Sloane?” Hurley stood up and moved to her racing partner’s side

“Yeah?” Sloane turned, and Hurley reached up and caught her face in her hands. Then she stood on the very tips of her toes and pressed a soft kiss to Sloane’s lips. Sloane responded enthusiastically, lifting Hurley up and looping her arms around her waist to get a better angle.

Hurley pulled away and took a breath. “Hey Sloane-”

“Yes Hurley?” Sloane leaned forward and touched her forehead to Hurley’s.

“I think I might like you a lot.”

“Ya think?” The two of them broke into giggles and Sloane pressed kisses to Hurley’s cheeks, her nose, her forehead, anywhere but the lips, until Hurley got frustrated enough to hold her face still so that she could kiss her back.

“Hey, do you smell that?” Hurley leaned back and wrinkled her nose. Sloane sniffed and her eyes went wide. 

“My pasta!” She said as she dropped Hurley unceremoniously to the floor and rushed to turn off the stove. Hurley let herself fall, spread-eagle on the floor. From somewhere deep in her chest, laughter came burbling up, spilling forth like a spring of light. 


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re so tiny! Hurley, why are you so small? You’re like a tiny little bean.”

They were parked out on the edge of Goldcliff, an empty bottle of wine between them bought in celebration of another win. It was nearly dark, and the last dregs of the sunset colored the sky purple and pink.

Hurley laughed “That doesn’t even make sense! How am I a bean?” The two of them were rosy-cheeked, though the falling darkness hid it, especially on Sloane's olive complexion.

“C’mere, I'll show you.” Sloane waved both of her hands, gesturing for Hurley to come sit in her lap. Hurley clambered over to her, nearly knocking their bottle over in the process. “See, look.” Sloane wrapped her arms around Hurley and tucked Hurley's head beneath her chin, rubbing her face against the bristles of Hurley’s hair. “Like a little bean in a bean pod.”

Hurley snorts. “If you're big enough to be the bean pod, then how are you so much drunker than me?”

“Shitty constitution modifier.” Sloane deadpanned, and they both burst out laughing.

They sat like that in silence for a while, watching the light of  the sun pull back to reveal thousands of tiny stars. This far away from the city it was easy to tune out any ambient noise and just listen to the sound of the birds in the distance and their heartbeats up close. Night in the desert brought with it a persistent chill, but Hurley felt warm tucked into Sloane’s arms.

“This is nice,” she said absentmindedly, leaning further back into Sloane’s chest. “You’re comfortable.” Sloane hummed a happy note and it vibrated up through her chest and into Hurley’s.

“My mom used to do stuff like this a lot,” Sloane said. “If I was scared or overwhelmed or just being too much of a bratty kid, she would bundle me up in blankets until I could barely move and then hold me until I calmed down. It almost always worked, too.”

“Sounds pretty nice.” Hurley laced her fingers with Sloane’s. Her hands were so much bigger than Hurley’s, but they had the same calluses. 

“Yeah, it was. Did your mom ever do anything like that?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything about her. She dropped me off at a monastery when I was still a baby and never came back. I guess she didn’t want me, or maybe she just couldn’t take care of me. Maybe she just really wanted me to be a monk.” Hurley laughed bitterly and Sloane squeezed her tighter.

“I didn't know. Sorry if I opened up an old wound.”

“No it's fine.” Hurley shook her head gently. “I came to terms with it a long time ago. And growing up in the monastery wasn't bad. I had a lot of older monks who took care of me, and there were some other kids there too, so I wasn’t lonely. They just weren't the most touchy-feely there. Plus, everyone there was focused on finding inner peace, or whatever, which wasn’t fun when I was little and I just wanted to run around. Eventually some of the monks realized that I needed a place to put my energy, and so they started teaching me martial arts so I would have something to do.”

“So that’s why you’re so kickass,” Sloane murmured. “Why’d you leave to join the militia?”

Hurley shrugged, though Sloane could only feel her nudging back into her. “I knew that I didn’t want to stay at the monastery forever, but I also wanted to keep helping people, like, that was one of the biggest things that I learned when I was there. And I had heard about how one of the other people who was taken in by the monastery had gone on to work for the militia, and that sounded pretty cool to me, so I sent her a letter and asked her to sign me up, and that was that. It’s not a perfect job, but I do still feel like it’s worthwhile.”

“Yeah, you get to meet cute criminals like me!” Sloane giggled, and Hurley couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Most criminals aren’t as nice as you, or as cute.” Hurley turned around in Sloane’s grasp so that the other woman could see her smile. “It’s almost as if you’re better than that kind of thing.”

Sloane’s face dropped. There was a moment where the light left her eyes and her body seemed to stiffen. “I dunno about ‘better’, Hurls. This town is so fucked up that I think it deserves someone like me.”

“But there are better ways to change things; ways that don’t involve theft,” Hurley said, and then regretted saying an instant later.

“If I could, then I would, Hurley, but it’s so hard to get anything done here when you’re not rich. I wish you and me could just tear this place down and build it up better, but we really can’t. The best I can do is try to make life hell for the ones at the top.” Sloane’s voice was ragged, like she was just a second from breaking.

“Oh Sloane…” Hurley wrapped her arms around Sloane’s torso. “I’m the one who opened old wounds this time, huh?” When Sloane didn’t respond, Hurley continued. “I don’t think we’re ever going to agree on how to make this city better. The best we can do is just keep doing what we always did and hope it works.” 

Sloane exhaled, long and slow. “I just wish we didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Hurley held the other woman tighter, burying her face in her chest. “I do too.” 

 

The two of them drifted off to sleep like that, their bodies curled up together under a blanket of stars.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains some fairly detailed description of blood and injury, and it may not be a good idea to read it if you are sensitive to that kind of thing

Breathe. She had to concentrate. It's been far too long since she had practiced healing, especially on this scale. The militia had an entire division of clerics, all of whom could heal better than she could, so she really only practiced her healing when a situation left a lot of people injured. Or, in this case, when a dwarf in a salamander mask threw a spear through the windshield of their wagon, piercing Sloane's shoulder mere seconds before they crossed the finish line. If Sloane had been the one driving, they would probably be dead, skidding off the edge of the cliff and into a drop so large that their basic safety harnesses wouldn't be enough to save them. Or it might have hit Hurley instead, square in the face and that would have been it, no more Ram to accompany the Raven. Either way, it was good that Hurley could keep her head amidst a shower of broken glass, and that she hadn't looked over to see Sloane impaled and bleeding in the seat next to her.  
Hurley let a breath shudder through her shoulders, trying to choke back a sob. Now was not the time for breaking down, especially when Sloane needed her.

Sloane, beautiful, stubborn Sloane, who had insisted that they get their prize money before anyone healed her, gave her a reassuring smile. Or at least, it would be reassuring if Hurley couldn’t feel the warmth of Sloanes blood on her hands, sticking her fingers to the fabric of Sloane's shirt and seeping into the tiny cracks and lines in her skin. Too much blood, not bright like rubies, but dark, like an overripe cherry. Sloane’s blood was on her hands and...

  
"Hey," Sloane reached up with her uninjured arm and cupped Hurley's face in her hand. "Don’t worry Hurls, you’ve got this. I'm not gonna die on you."

  
“No,” Hurley shook her head. "No, you’re too stubborn to just die on me, especially from something like that.”

  
“Damn right.” Sloane pumped her fist and then let her hand fall. “Besides, I’m too cool for a quiet death in my dirty garage. If I go, it’s gotta be a spectacle.”

  
“We wouldn’t be dealing with this in your garage if you just let me heal you on the racetrack.” Hurley said, letting the exasperation seep into her voice.

  
Sloane shook her head. “Too many people there hate us. They would all line up to kick dirt in the wound or something. It’s better that I get patched up in peace.”

  
Hurley sighed. “I just wish that I had been fast enough to be out of range of that spear, or that I could have somehow moved out of the way before it could hit you. If I had been able to react more quickly, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  
“You’re a lot of things, Hurley, but you’re not a mind reader. Don't beat yourself up about this.” Sloane’s voice was tender and sympathetic, as if she was the one healing an injured Hurley.

  
“I know, I know.” Hurley tried to cover the wounds with her hands, spreading her fingers out so that she wouldn’t have to look at it too much. “I just don't like you getting hurt.”

 

 

After taking a moment to compose herself, Hurley finally pulled her hands back to assess the damage. She had already pulled the spear out so that she could get Sloane out to the wagon and maneuver her more easily. She had also taken off Sloane’s jacket, an old favorite that was now destined to be a rag unless she could patch the huge hole in the shoulder and wash off the bloodstains. Now all that was left was the wound. It wasn’t all that large now that she looked at it, but it went deep into the muscle, only stopping when it hit bone. If she looked hard, she could probably see a sliver of white underneath all of that red, but she didn’t want to look, because she was not curious, but concerned and disgusted and frightened and...

  
She needed to breathe. Only then could she reach towards her center for the source of her ki, a place that felt like a steel ball in the middle of her stomach. She let the rest of her muscles relax and dove inward, pulling at the energy and feeling it course up her torso and through her arms with a warmth like liquid fire. It pooled and swelled in her hands, so much energy that she was nearly shaking from it. Then with a final push, she let the ki pass through her hands and into Sloane, blue electric sparks spitting and fizzing at the point where skin touched skin. Sloane jerked from the power, but quickly lowered herself back down. The deepest parts of the wound were already starting to regenerate, but the top still looked raw. Without further healing, it would definitely scar, but Hurley was spent. Her arms went numb beneath her, and she collapsed to rest her head on Sloane's chest.

  
“You need to practice your healing more if you get exhausted from healing a wound like that.” Sloane’s voice was rough, but as long as she was well enough to joke, Hurley was happy.

  
“Don’t you dare give me any more reasons to practice.” Hurley said into the fabric of Sloane's shirt. Sloane laughed and to Hurley it was the most beautiful song she had ever heard.


	7. Chapter 7

Hurley let her hand fall in three sharp taps on the door of Sloane’s apartment. The sun had already disappeared, leaving behind only traces of pink, so unless Sloane was out on one of her “missions,” she should be home.

  
“Sloane, it’s me!” The introduction was unnecessary; few people knew where Sloane lived, and even fewer were the type to knock before entering.

  
“Just a sec!” Her voice was muffled from behind the door, but something about it sounded stressed. Hurley turned over recent events in her mind, trying to figure out the source so she wouldn’t have to ask. Aside from a few recent losses on the racetrack, there was nothing that she could think of, and that fact made her even more worried. If it was something that she didn’t know about, then it might not be something that she could help Sloane with.

  
“Hey.” The door creaked open and Sloane poked her head out. She looked tired, and her hair was messy, but other than that, she seemed fine. She slouched against the door frame in a way that couldn’t be comfortable, her shoulder jammed up near her ear and her torso bent at a sharp angle.

  
“Hey yourself.” Hurley stood on the tips of her toes and pressed a kiss to Sloane’s cheek. “I just got off of work and I wanted to see you, so I decided to stop by. Hope I didn’t interrupt you or anything.”

  
“No, I wasn’t doing anything important.” Sloane straightened herself out and opened the door wider. “Come on in and sit down.”

  
Before Hurley could even walk through the door, Sloane swiveled around and walked towards the couch. Hurley frowned. Something about Sloane seemed more cold than usual, but she couldn’t put a finger on what it was. It was possible that she had just had a long day, but when she was tired Sloane usually sought out physical comfort, practically draping herself over Hurley and curling around her. Today she seemed stiff and distant, as if a cold wind had come and wrapped itself around her bones.

  
As Sloane walked inside, Hurley caught sight of a sliver of green in the dark waves of her hair. It was buried into the tangles, but it still looked bright and fresh.  
“Hey, stand still for a second.” Sloane froze in place and Hurley reached up and tugged the green out of her hair. It was an oak leaf, long and bumpy and completely out of place. Most of the trees near Goldcliff were acacias or piñons, with the occasional palm tree brought in by a rich person dreaming of the ocean. The last time Hurley had seen an oak tree was when she had traveled up north to Neverwinter. “How’d that get there,” she joked, “you don’t even own a house plant.”

  
“Must’ve gotten caught in my hair when I was in town,” Sloane mumbled. Her eyes were downcast. “It doesn’t matter. Sit down, you’ve had a long day.” With that she dropped heavily onto the couch and sprawled across it. Hurley plopped down onto her lap and lay her head back against Sloane’s chest. As she tried to get comfortable, something dug into the small of her back.

  
“Ow.” she twisted around, trying to find the source of the pain. The only thing she could see was a large brown belt around Sloane’s waist. It twisted around itself as if it had been woven, but the strands looked almost like twigs, and there were no buckles or ties as far as she could see. “Is that a new belt?”

  
“Yeah,” was all that Sloane said.

  
“It’s a different look for you.” Hurley said, not knowing what else to say. “I would’ve thought that something brown would clash with your soft goth aesthetic, but you make it work.”

  
“Mmm,” Sloane carded a hand through Hurley’s hair. “I think you might be biased ‘cause you think I’m hot.”

  
“Maybe so.” Hurley smiled and buried her face into Sloane’s chest. If she was still able to make jokes, then Sloane couldn’t be too bad off. She had probably just had a close call while breaking into someone’s mansion and didn’t want to tell her because she knew that Hurley would just lecture her. They were open to each other about everything else, but the legality of certain actions remained a point of contention. Hurley had long since gotten over caring about whether Sloane stole money from people who wouldn’t miss it, but she was still worried that one day Sloane might get herself into a situation that she couldn’t get out of. If she was arrested, then Hurley might be able to plead her case, but if someone decided to take revenge into their own hands… Hurley didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

 

The two of them lay together for a while, not moving except to turn on the old radio that perched on an overflowing shelf. The best of elven pop played softly in the background as they talked about nothing in particular: wagons and books and opinions on grapes. The room that had still been washed with pale light when Hurley arrived grew dark around them until one of them realized that they couldn’t see the other, and they both laughed and went to turn on a lamp. Before long they realized that the city bells had stopped chiming in the hour for the night, and that it was dark enough for them to see the lights of the city spread out like stars underneath the clouded sky.

  
“Do you mind if I stay for the night?” Hurley yawned and stretched, the joints of her spine cracking in response. Either she had been neglecting her training too much as of late, or she was getting old. “I don’t really feel like walking across town in the dark.”

  
“I don’t mind at all.” Sloane’s voice seemed distant again, as if her mind was caught up in another thought. “I’m not really tired though, so I might not be in bed for a bit.”

  
“I’ll warm it up for you.” Hurley smiled and wandered into Sloane’s bedroom, stifling another yawn.

 

 

Hurley had already changed out of her uniform into plain clothes at the station, but now she piled her thick canvas pants on the floor and wiggled out of her bra before putting her t-shirt back on. Sloane’s bed was just a mattress on the floor, but it was piled high with quilts that were obviously hand-made, and bordered by far too many pillows. Hurley nestled in, nearly burying herself in cushioning. Sleep came easily, and she had almost settled into it when she heard Sloane open the door. The other woman walked straight to the bed and settled heavily into it, as if her body weighed twice as much as it usually did. Hurley nudged close to her, reaching an arm out to wrap around Sloane’s waist when the feeling of bark beneath her fingers stopped her movement.

  
“Aren’t you going to take off your belt before you go to sleep?” Hurley asked, her voice muddled with tiredness.

 

“No.” Sloane’s reply was short and sharp.

“Alright, suit yourself, weirdo.” Hurley sighed and let herself drift back towards sleep, too tired to figure out what had gotten into her girlfriend.

 

 

When Hurley woke, early enough that the sun was just starting to poke its fingers over the horizon, the spot next to her was empty. When she reached her hand out, it felt as cold as ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I haven't been formatting the text properly, so it ends up all cramped. I've edited everything to make it more readable. Sorry it took me so long to notice this ://


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late chapter! I was away from home and I forgot my laptop charger T-T. The update schedule should be back to normal after this

There was something different about Sloane, and Hurley didn’t know what it was, but she didn't like it. There was a coldness to everything she did, like something was biting and eating away at her from the inside and leaving her hollow. When she spoke, she exhaled it like a cold winter wind; sharp and empty. The small clever quips and the wry smile that went with them were replaced with tight lips and terse responses, and that was when she responded at all.

Hurley wondered if it was her fault.

She couldn't think of anything that she had done wrong, but she also couldn't remember any other incident that could have triggered Sloane’s retreat into herself. Sloane wouldn't talk about it either; every time Hurley tried to broach the subject, she would grow silent. There were times when Sloane would just walk away from a conversation that she didn’t want to have. The worst part was that underneath all of the avoidance and the reluctance, Sloane seemed _scared_ , and the last that Hurley ever wanted to do was scare her. 

 

When Hurley finally managed to corner Sloane, they were working in the garage, a peaceful silence between them. They sometimes fell into silences like this, when they got so engrossed in their work that words fell away. They had become more frequent lately, and less comfortable. When Hurley broke this one, it felt like shattering glass.

“Hey Sloane?” Hurley slid over towards Sloane’s side, wiping the sweat and grease off her face. Sloane did not look up. Instead she twisted harder on a stubborn lug nut, trying to free the wheel of a wagon they had won in a pink slip race. “Sloane,” Hurley said again, placing her hand on the other woman's shoulder. “You haven’t been yourself lately, and I need you to tell me what's wrong. If it’s something I’m doing, please just tell me, and I'll stop. The last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

Sloane looked up, her eyes wide and blank. There was a moment where she looked at Hurley as if she had never seen her before, as if the months and months they had spent together had just disappeared. Before Hurley could open her mouth to speak, Sloane shuddered, her whole body rocking forward. When she picked her head up, there were tears in her eyes.

“Hurley.” Her voice was a breath, no more than a whisper. “Hurls I- I can't…” 

Her body stiffened, shoulders back, arms rigid. “No,” she said, and her voice turned deep and flat. “This cannot continue.”

“What can't continue, Sloane? What-”

Underneath her hand, Sloane’s form grew wispy, indistinct. The room around them grew dark, and a wind from nowhere blew the door open. With a clap of thunder, Sloane was gone, and Hurley’s arm fell to her side, empty.

 

Hurley couldn't find Sloane after that. Her apartment was empty, dust slowly collecting on the tables and shelves. All of her clothes were still in the drawers, even her toothbrush sat by the sink, untouched. Hurley stopped by every night for a week, hoping that one night she would come by and Sloane would be sitting on the couch, or making food in the kitchen, but every night she opened the door to darkness and quiet.

 

Hurley had almost given up hope that Sloane was still alive when she returned to the garage one day to find one of their extra wagons gone. It wasn't the one that they always used; that was still sitting untouched on its lift. Instead it was one they had gotten as a prize, a sleek single-seater that they had been slowly breaking parts off of. At first Hurley assumed that it had just been a robber who made of with the first thing they saw, but as she approached the scene, her foot caught on something and she stumbled. Spilled across the floor was the box of spare raven masks that Sloane kept on hand, only a few of them still left. Hurley picked them up, rubbing the feathered design beneath her fingers. Alone in the garage, Hurley choked out a sob.

 

“Lieutenant.” Captain Bane folded his hands and leaned forward over his desk. “I trust that you remember the Raven case.”

“Yes sir.” Hurley swung her legs nervously beneath the too-tall chair. “I thought that we had dropped that due to few leads, and because we had other cases that took higher priority.” And because Hurley had lied about finding Sloane’s garage, but she wasn't going to mention that.

“Well, priorities have shifted again.” Bane reached into his desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. “Silverblood Manor on Cliffside Road was robbed yesterday in broad daylight.  The culprit was a woman in a raven mask whose description matches the one we have of the Raven. Witnesses say that she did not hurt anyone, but she manage to take-” he flipped through his papers, “over ten thousand gold worth of jewelry and antiques, including a supposedly haunted doll, which she ended up throwing off of the cliff.”

Despite the situation, Hurley found herself fighting down a laugh. Even beneath the fog of whatever was happening to her, Sloane was still afraid of ghosts.

“The important part of this incident is not even that she robbed this home. I happen to know that the Silverblood family has enough money stored in offshore accounts to buy three houses that size. No, the part that concerns me is this.” Bane reached under his desk and pulled out an enormous basket of red roses.

“Uh, that’s very thoughtful of you, Captain, but you’re not exactly my type.” Hurley gave a nervous laugh.

“I’m not trying to woo you, lieutenant. What you see here is just a small fraction of the roses that the Raven summoned and used to bind the Silverbloods while she stole their possessions.” The Captain sighed and leaned back in his chair. “In all of our past cases, the Raven has never shown any druidic tendencies, especially not to this level. I would suspect the work of an accomplice, but this was not the only incident.”

“It wasn't?” Hurley tried to keep the desperation out off her voice, but Bane still raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, “Lieutenant, do you watch the battlewagon races? It’s okay if you do, I'm not going to reprimand you for it.” 

“Only on occasion, sir.” It wasn't a total lie; Hurley only watched sometimes because most of the time she was racing.

“Well, at this weekend's race, the Raven appeared for the first time in months without her partner, the Ram. She then proceeded to win that race alone by creating a massive earthquake that tore a rift in the track. Several of the wagons that were immediately behind her crashed into the rift, killing the drivers.”

“There’s no way!” Hurley shook her head, trying to make sense of what she had just heard. She had skipped this past weekend’s race entirely; racing without Sloane just felt strange, wrong. But people had seen Sloane there, even though it couldn’t have been Sloane, because Sloane never wanted to hurt anyone. “She doesn't, I mean, she's never killed anyone on the track before, nor have any of her crimes ended in death. It’s completely uncharacteristic of her.”

“Which is why we need to apprehend her as soon as we can.” Bane’s voice was solemn. “Lieutenant Hurley, I'm sure you can understand that if the Raven has gained these new abilities, and if she intends to use them with no regard for who lives and dies, then it is our responsibility as the militia to take her down. Since you were on her case previously, I am putting you in charge of this investigation. I trust that you will be able to do what you must to protect the city.”

“Yes sir.” Hurley hoped that her face didn’t look as pained as she felt. “You can count on me.”

“Good. Now get out of my office and start hitting the street.” Captain Bane shooed her away with one hand, and on any other day Hurley might have laughed. Instead she turned and made sure that the door to his office was closed before she let a sob heave through her chest.


	9. Chapter 9

Hurley never got the chance to do an investigation. Barely a day after Captain Captain Bane called her into his office, the ground beneath the Goldcliff Trust ruptured and sprouted, giving birth to vines the size of tree trunks, and a tree the size of a small building. Hurley was at the militia barracks when it happened, too far to even see the building, but she felt the slight tremor under her feet and she knew. All she could hope was that whatever was possessing Sloane wouldn’t go too far, that it wouldn’t make her do something that she would regret.

She grabbed her things quickly, not even waiting for someone to tell her where to go or what to do. It wasn’t like she needed the direction anyway- no matter what people told her, she had one goal in mind, and that was to confront Sloane. As fast as she could, Hurley weaved her way through the desks of the office, startling several of her co-workers and sending a stack of papers flying. She felt bad, but she could apologize later. Now she had more important things to worry about.

 

The source of the incident wasn’t hard to find, not with the streams of people running from the site in fear. Hurley pushed against the crowd, weaving and dodging between people’s legs and trying to keep her eyes open for anything that looked like it had been Sloane’s doing. As she turned a sharp corner, Hurley realized that she didn’t need to look very hard at all. The sides of the Goldcliff Trust, shining gold in the sunlight, were slowly being swallowed by a mass of living green.

Hurley sprinted the rest of the way to the Trust, skidding to a halt only when she saw that there was already a group of militia wagons parked just outside the building.

“Lieutenant Hurley!” Captain Bane motioned her over with a wave of his arm. When he saw how hard she was breathing, he paused. “Did you run all the way here?”

“Yes sir,” Hurley huffed.

“Ye gods kid, you could have taken one of the militia wagons and saved yourself a lot of effort.” The hard stoicism of Bane’s faded from pure grumpiness to mild concern.

“Sorry sir, wasn’t really thinking. I just knew that this was the Raven’s doing, so I wanted to head over here as soon as possible.” And now Bane’s idle chit-chat was stopping her from doing anything productive. Not that she knew what she would do, but still.

“Well, you're right about it being the Raven.” Bane shook his head. “She has herself locked into the building with those vines, but even so, we've been able to confirm that most, if not all of the people who were in the building when she took over have gotten out without injury.”

“Has anyone gone inside to check?” Hurley bounced nervously on the balls of her feet.

“That was the next thing that I was going to tell you,” Bane said, “There’s a team of professionals here, came recommended by a friend of a friend. They’re here to help us with this case, so they’re already inside the building.”

“They’re  _ what?” _ Hurley glanced over at where she thought the door to the bank might be, only to see a wall of solid green. “How did they even get in there?”

“I think it involved sweet-talking some vines. I’m not sure, because I immediately erased what I saw from my memory”

“O-kay…” Hurley frowned. “How long ago did they go in?”

Bane checked his watch. “Coming up on fifteen minutes now.”

“And they’re still in there?” The two officers looked back at the building. “Sir, that building is five stories. Even if the elevator is broken, it shouldn’t take them fifteen minutes to get to the top floor. Is it possible that the Raven has trapped them somehow?”

“There’s no way to know for sure.” Bane shook his head. “We can only hope that they’re good enough at their jobs to beat her.”

Hurley looked over at the bank. The scene was far too quiet, no audible signs of struggle or flashes of spells being fired. All that she could see was the creeping vines that snaked their way up the walls.

“Sir, I would like to request permission to go in and provide backup. I know the Raven better than anyone else on the squad, so I think that I may be the most well-equipped to deal with her.” Hurley steeled herself for rejection, but it never came.

“Lieutenant, if you can get into that building, you’re welcome to assist in taking down the culprit.” The look on the Captain’s face was… amused? No, that couldn’t be right. “I will be very surprised if you can get past the vines, though.” Oh, no, she had been right.

“Thank you sir,” Hurley said, and she turned on her heel and walked closer to the building.

 

It took less than a minute for Hurley to realize that she had been a bit too confident about her ability to get into the bank. The first two floors of the building were swallowed in such a dense layer of vines that there was no way that she could break through a door or window, especially since the vines seemed to be regenerating just as fast as people could cut them down. The only places that were still free of plant matter were the very top floors, and even they were being slowly consumed. If she could get up there…

 

“Hey Grace!” 

The tiefling turned her head as Hurley called her name. “Oh hey, I was wondering when I would see you here, what with this being a Raven case and all. You wanna join the betting pool on whether or not those new guys will make it out alive?” She flicked her wrist and a shimmering spreadsheet appeared in the air. “Berry’s betting 20 gold that they die, but he’s also the dumbass who almost got eaten by plants.”

“I think I’ll hold off on betting for now, but there is something else you can help me with.”

“Oh?” Grace’s tail perked up in interest. “Do tell.”

“You know how to cast levitate, right?” Hurley leaned forward, murmuring conspiratorially.

“Uh, yeah, that’s some level two bullshit, who do you think I am?” Grace snorted. “What do you need to float?”

“Me.” Hurley tried to keep her face serious as Grace started to laugh.

“Oh, you’re gonna need to give me an explanation before I can do that one, chica,” she said, still giggling.

“The Captain told me that I could provide backup for the new dudes if I could get into the building, and at this point the only way to do that is to go where the vines haven’t taken over yet. Unfortunately, the only clear place is the top few floors, so I need someone to levitate me so that I can kick a window in or something.” Hurley waited patiently as Grace took a second to process what she had said.

“Alright, I’m down.” Grace said, and Hurley held back a victory cheer. “But only because I have money on those guys getting out alive, got it?”

“Thank you so much Grace, you’re the best.” Hurley would have hugged the tiefling if she wasn’t in such a hurry.

“You better believe it, hon.” Grace took her wand from a holster on her hip. “C’mon, let’s get closer to the building so this is easier for me.”

 

The two of them shuffled and scooted between militiamen and bystanders until they were close enough to the vines that Hurley could smell the heavy scent of pollen in the back of her nose.

“Alright.” Grace twirled her wand between her fingers. “You’re gonna owe me big for this one Hurley-girl.”

“Oh believe me, I know.” Hurley braced herself. “C’mon, hit me.”

Grace tapped her wand gently on the tip of Hurley’s nose, and like that she was off, lifting up like a child’s lost balloon. As she rose, she could see vines poking out of broken windows and twining around desks and chairs. And then she rose further and she saw Sloane, and there was a whip of thorns in her hand and three injured figures in front of her, and that was enough. Hurley grabbed onto the side of the building and hurled herself feet-first through the window.

 

There was a deafening crash, and Hurley was vaguely aware of the glass scraping stinging cuts down her arms. She rolled and flipped herself up, getting into fighting stance almost subconsciously. She didn’t know how this encounter was going to go, but it was safe to assume that it wouldn’t end well.

“Sloane!” she yelled, even though she wanted to believe that the person in front of her wasn’t Sloane, because Sloane could never do something like this. “Sloane, you’re not a killer.” Maybe if she said it, Sloane would remember that what she was saying was the truth.

The woman in front of her stared, and she looked like Sloane and dressed like Sloane, but it couldn’t be her, because Sloane’s eyes were so brown they were almost black, and the eyes staring out from behind the mask were blue as a glacier and completely and utterly blank. Then the woman blinked, quick enough to miss, and she could see Sloane’s brown eyes, more scared than they had ever been.

“Sloane-” Hurley stretched her hand out, pleading.

A cold wind whipped through the room, sending papers flying like birds. They whipped like a cyclone around Sloane, the black center of their storm. Then with a puff of smoke the papers fell and the love of Hurley’s life was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clicc like if you also fell in love with this random minor character I created to move the plot along


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as the three adventurers approached her outside of the militia tent, Hurley knew that she had been found out. Sure, she may have saved them from potential death, but that was just her job. No, she was positive that they were only approaching her because at least one of them had been conscious enough to hear her call Sloane by her first name. They knew that she knew, and so she was going to have to give them some answers.

“Ma’am, could you come here for a second?” One of the trio, the garishly-dressed elf, raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. Hurley suppressed a sigh and walked over to the tent where they were standing. Even after being healed, they all looked a bit worn down; especially the dwarf, who still had twigs and leaves poking out of his beard. Despite their worn demeanors, they were all looking at her, bright-eyed and curious.

“Hey,” she said a bit too quickly, “are you doing okay? She did a number on you guys.”

“Oh, yeah,” said the tallest of the three, a human man easily twice her height who was picking dried blood out of the dense curls of his sideburns. “Thanks for touching us.”

“I- what?” Was he  _ flirting _ with her? “That’s not the best way of putting it, but-”

“No, yeah, thanks though.” The man nodded along to an unheard rhythm. Maybe he was just concussed.

“I, um, I have to ask.” She looked all three of them in the eyes as best as she could. “Did she say anything before I came in to save you guys?’

The elf spoke first. “Yeah, she seemed concerned about us, which is weird for-” In the middle of the sentence, his voice phased into static, a sound like a broken stone of farspeech pressed right against her ear.

“Woah, woah, hold on.” She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the fuzz. “What was that sound!?”

“Oh, I, um…” The elf broke off into the most blatant lie Hurley had ever heard, and even as he told it, she stopped listening. Sloane had been concerned? It was unusual for her to show any emotion in this possessed form, so if she could show concern for some strangers, that might mean that she wasn’t completely gone.

“No, it’s not that weird.” Not for Sloane, at least. Sloane would have tried to minimize the damage in a situation like that, but Sloane also wouldn’t have smothered an entire building in partially-sentient vines in the first place. 

The elf leaned down, far enough that he was almost in her personal space. “So, what do you know about her, Hurley?”

Hurley blushed and grasped for excuses, questioning how they knew her name, and blaming all of her knowledge about Sloane on her work as a cop. If these guys were really professionals, or whatever Captain Bane called them, then they might not react well to her dating a criminal. It was only when she tried to go “arrest some criminals” that the dwarf caught her by the back of her gi and sent out a spell that filled the air with a static tingling. 

“So, Hurley, do you know where the Raven is?” She hadn’t heard the dwarf speak before, but his voice seemed almost too smooth, too calm.

“No, I don't know where she is.” Hurley shook her head. Her ears were ringing. “I’m sorry what…?”

“What is your relationship to the Raven?”

“We were partners.” That was the best way to describe what they were, between the racing and the dating, but why did she tell them that so easily? She didn't know these people, she couldn't trust them, so why was she spilling her secrets to them like they were her best friends? “What, what’s happening?”

“Never mind all that!” The dwarf threw an arm over her shoulder. “So you were partners? Tell me about that.”

“We… I was supposed to arrest her, but I chose not to, and we became very close…” She looked at the three of them in a panic. “You’re not going to hurt her, are you? What do you want from her?”

“No, no,” said the elf, shaking his head at the same time as the human said. “We want to help her.”

“I want to help her too.” Hurley sighed. If it was up to her, she would do this on her own, but it seemed like these three were not going to go away anytime soon. “Will you help me help her?”

The three of them grinned, and Hurley couldn’t help but laugh.

 

As she got to know the boys, wheat surprised Hurley above all else was the fact that they all seemed to be big goofballs. They made dick jokes and tried to steal an overpriced magnet from a gift shop and laughed when she caught them.

She explained to them how she and Sloane had raced out on the track, and how she planned to convince Sloane to come to her senses by beating her in a race. Magnus, the tall human, seemed to be the most enthusiastic about the plan, immediately determined for it to go right. Taako, the elf, made a big deal out of pretending not to care, but she could see a quiet seriousness under his flippant demeanor. Merle didn’t seem like he was paying attention most of the time, but he had a warm sense of humor about him. All three seemed to be more than willing to help her beat Sloane in the race, though it seemed like they knew something about her possession that Hurley didn’t. 

 

Retrieving the arcane core wasn’t technically necessary for them to race, but Hurley wasn’t going to tell them that. It was true that the core would help them go faster, but mostly it would trip up the Hammerheads, who were her biggest competitors on the track besides Sloane. The trio had almost left for their retrieval mission when she remembered one last thing that she had to do. She ran in front of them as they walked out the door, and told them her request. One by one they got close and whispered in her ear, as if what they were telling her was a secret. Well, even if they wanted it to be, it wouldn’t be for long.

 

“Akira!” Hurley called the shopkeeper's name as she burst through the front door, making the bell hung above it tinkle and chime. 

The gnome at the counter looked up from their magazine. “Hurley, you know that the shop closes in ten minutes. What do you want?”

“I need three masks made by tomorrow morning.” When Akira met her gaze with a glare, Hurley nearly faltered. “I know it’s a rush job, I’m sorry, but I’ll pay you double for your time. I just really need them for the race tomorrow.”

Akira leaned forward, looking at Hurley over the tops of their wire-rimmed glasses. For a moment they just stared, then they leaned back in their seat and sighed.

“You’re lucky I like you, Hurley. You’re also lucky that you’re a good customer and I know you’re going to pay me every single penny of that overtime you’re promising.”

Hurley bounced up on the balls of her feet and smiled. “Thank you so much, Akira, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They waved their hand. “So what am I making?”

“Oh, um,” Hurley rummaged around her pockets for the paper she had written everything down on. “Bear, human-sized; owl, dwarf-sized; and…” she hesitated for a second, “mongoose? I’m not sure what that is, but it’s for an elf.”

“It’s like a big weasel.” Akira carded a hand through their hair. “Alright, is that it? You don’t need any more raven or ram masks?”

“No,” Hurley murmured, trying to keep her face blank at the mere thought of Sloane. “I’m good on those.”

“Then give me my money and get out of here so that I can clean up.” Hurley placed her money on the table, and Akira scooped it up and counted it out carefully. “You can go now, the masks will be ready in the morning. Now shoo.”

Hurley grinned and ran out the door.

 

She waited most of the evening for the boys to return, pacing the floor of the garage and trying to tell herself that she shouldn’t be worried. She nearly jumped out of her shoes when they burst through the door, the arcane core held triumphantly in their hands. They looked scuffed up, but no worse for wear, and from what they were saying, the Hammerheads got what was coming to them.

 

She kept them up most of the night, running through different strategies and making sure that they all knew how to work the different tricks and traps that she had hidden throughout the car. She had to make sure that this race was perfect; she  _ needed _ it to be perfect, for Sloane’s sake as well as her own. So she pushed and pushed and didn’t realize that she might have been pushing too hard until Merle let out a loud snore while she was explaining evasive maneuvers. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be frustrated. Instead she dug out a few spare blankets and passed them around. Even on the concrete floor, Magnus and Merle were out as soon as their eyes closed.

 

She didn’t realize that Taako hadn’t gone to sleep with them until she felt the weight of a blanket being placed over her shoulders as she hunched over the engine.

“I’m pretty sure that halflings are one of the kinds of people that actually need to sleep.” He was leaning back against the wagon, trying to act nonchalant. “I mean, we’ve got a roommate who’s a halfling, and he sleeps, like,  _ all _ the time, so what I’m saying is that you should probably at least take a nap.”

Hurley smiled and shook her head. “I wish, but I’m just… I dunno. I guess I’m just too anxious. I feel like I could run a mile on just nervous energy alone.”

“So what’s on your mind, homie?” Taako slid down and sat on the ground next to her. “Give Taako the deets.”

“Just Sloane, I guess.” She shrugged. “I mean, I feel like this plan is going to work, but if it doesn’t, then I don’t know what I’ll do. There are just so many things that I couldn’t do without her.” Hurley hesitated. “I mean, she’s my partner, and-”

“You don’t have to give me that gal pals shit, bubula, I’m in the same boat.” He tapped his chin. “Or is it the other boat? Doesn’t matter, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m gay as hell, and I can tell that you and the Raven aren’t just good buds.”

Hurley slumped forward and rested her head on the wagon. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Only to people with eyes.” Taako snorted. “So like, probably not these dipshits,” he said, gesturing at the sleeping forms on the floor.

The two of them laughed at that, chuckles never loud enough to stir Magnus and Merle. When the laughter died off, the room fell into a heavy silence.

“I just miss her.” Hurley tucked her knees up to her chest. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “She’s been under the control of that thing for months now, and it feels like there’s a ragged hole where she should be. I just want to see her again, the real her, not the person I saw up on that tower. I just want her to be safe.” 

She looked up at Taako, his image blurry behind the tears that were streaming down her face. He nodded and placed a hand on top of her head.

“Get some sleep, we’ll get her back tomorrow.”

A warmth dripped down from his fingertips, heavy and fuzzy. It weighed down her eyelids and drooped her head. Before she knew it, Hurley was asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

If you asked Hurley what happened at that last race, she wouldn’t be able to tell you, not in words at least. She could scream the way the sirens blared as their opponents were picked off one by one, let her hands shake like they had on the wheel as she bounced over every rock in that damn desert. She could go through the motions, but there were no words in any language that could describe how that race had torn her apart from the inside, how it had destroyed her and put her back together again. There was no way to describe it, but in the years to come she would try.

 

There was the starting box, of course. There was always a starting box, built to sap you of every sensation before you were born into the world of light and noise. The boys were uncharacteristically quiet as they waited; perhaps all three respected dramatic tension when they didn't respect anything else. So there was silence, then sensation, and then they were off.

 

Hurley kept her eyes glued to Sloane's sleek black wagon, which, from the moment the race had started, had already pulled ahead of the pack. If the other wagons were gaining on them, well, that was what the boys were for. They could pay attention to everyone else while she focused on Sloane. 

 

She had raced this track dozens of times, but she had never flown through it like she did on that day. She urged the wagon forward with all she had, pedal to the metal, chasing that wagon that was turning into a black slip on the horizon. At one point she was pretty sure that she lost one of the boys, but someone cast a spell involving what she thought was a unicorn, and it was all okay. It was a good thing too, because Hurley wasn't sure that she would be able to stop if she wanted to, and she definitely didn't want to. All she wanted was to chase Sloane down and finally get her back from the thing that had possessed her.

 

The three cacti that signaled that the end of the track was near were in her line of vision when a harpoon thudded into the back of her wagon, dragging her hope with it. Sloane had been just barely within reach, and the fucking Hammerheads had to go and ruin it. Now she was straining against the thick cable, still intact despite Magnus’s attempts to chop it in half. She had just climbed out to deal with some of the hangers-on when a fucking lazer beam cut through the air, brushing over her head and making her buzz cut just a little bit shorter. Then she was kicking people off of the top of her wagon, and whatever was happening in the shark tank somehow resolved itself, because whatever was holding onto her wagon was released, and the vehicle went flying forward. 

 

She almost didn’t let Merle press the big red turbo button, but she decided she might as well give him the satisfaction of doing it, since he had had his hand at the ready for practically the whole race. When he slammed it down, she rode the boost like an adrenaline high, laughing in amusement when she saw Taako pass on a comically large motorbike, and then laughing in sheer amazement as she pulled up next to Sloane. The other woman wouldn’t look at her. Her posture was rigid, her hands clenched to the wheel so hard that her knuckles shone white beneath the sickly gray tint that her skin had taken on. Hurley stared, trying to will Sloane into looking at her.

Before that could happen, there was a sizzling pop, and Taako appeared in the seat where Sloane had been. He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, motioning back to where Sloane was stuck on an unmoving bike. Hurley laughed so hard that she almost forgot to hit the brake, skidding and sliding to a halt at the edge of the cliff. They had won. They were going to get Sloane back.

 

Then an oversized motorbike flew past them in a cloud of dust, and Hurley watched as the woman she loved flew like a bird over the side of the cliff. She dropped, small enough to be mistaken for a real raven, and right as Hurley’s heart crashed into the pit of her stomach, she rose on an updraft and soared over the canyon, gathering a storm around her. The sky darkened. Vines grew into a tower beneath Sloane’s feet. Hurley removed her mask.

 

She didn’t know what else to do. Secrecy didn’t matter to her anymore. If the crowd was going to see her, then they might as well see her as she was. The Ram. Hurley. The woman who wanted nothing more than to jump off that cliff and tear the belt from Sloane’s waist herself. She didn’t even notice that people were making a fuss until Taako made a joke about actually being a mongoose, and then all she could do was laugh.

 

“I have a plan,” she said. It was a fucking awful plan, but she wasn’t going to tell them that. “Are you guys with me?”

She hopped into the wagon without waiting for a response, and as the rest of them piled in, she revved the engine, letting the speed build beneath her feet.

Did she know what she was going to do after she drove off a cliff? Nope.

Fuck it.

She slammed her hand down on the gearshift, releasing the brake and screaming as the four of them took flight.

 

It was sheer luck that they hadn't used the harpoon gun already; either that, or they had Istus on their side, and Hurley doubted that was the case, especially as her stomach twisted with the velocity of their motion. Then they slammed into the side of the vine column, and Hurley was sure that Istus wasn’t there, because she wouldn't have given her whiplash like that.

When they climbed over the ledge of the platform, Sloane wasn't there. There was a half-elf-shaped figure buried in thorns, but though it looked like Sloane, the eyes were wrong. Those glowing blue eyes spoke of the thing possessing her, and so Hurley only flinched a little when Taako engulfed the thorns in flames. The figure retaliated, sweeping long arms made of thorns at the group and narrowly missing Hurley. She rolled backwards to avoid another hit, and as she did she nearly tripped off the side of the tower. Only her wagon, partially eaten by vines, saved her from falling far. 

 

She landed on the roof with a thud, grabbing for anything that would stop her from moving. As she did so, she pulled the lever that opened up the hood, revealing the gleaming arcane core inside.

She stared for a moment. Arcane cores were essentially pure arcane energy, collected and  compacted into small cubes. They were originally designed for wizards to use in wars- you would use up the cube’s energy instead of your own, so you wouldn't run out of spell slots. Later, when wars fell out of style, racers found that they made for great fuel, so long as you had the right engine. A good core could last for years and burn clean the whole time. Hers was brand new.

Hurley grabbed the core from its compartment, clutching it tight and clambering back up to the top of the column. She could use the core on Taako, so that he could keep up the fireballs, or even give it to Merle, in hopes that he could do something about the plants.

Or she could use it herself.

 

“Guys, come here! I have a plan!” Hurley gestured the boys over as Sloane retreated into her thorny cocoon. She assessed them carefully. All of them looked worse for wear, but they were still intact. Taako no longer had a safety harness, but she could just give him hers, which she did, slipping it around his waist as she embraced him.

“Thanks for everything,” she said, and she smiled. If she didn't make it out of this, those would be good last words.

She drew energy up and out from the arcane core, pulling it through her hands like she would pull her ki from her center. Then she took a deep breath, smiled, and cast it outwards, sending the boys flying out towards the city. 

They would be fine. More importantly, they wouldn't be collateral damage.

 

“Sloane?” Without the sounds of battle, the eye of the storm was eerily silent. “It's me, Sloane. It's Hurley.” 

She took a step forward, then another. The vines tangled beneath her feet, but she kept her stride steady. “It's the Ram. Do you remember me, Raven? You were the one who gave me that name in the first place. You said that I was stubborn, that I charged into things. Well, here I am, charging in again.”

She was almost in front of Sloane now. The vines around her thickened, darkening to an inky black. “I told you before that this wasn't you, and I still believe it. The Sloane I know, the Sloane I  _ love,  _ is not a killer. She steals because the system is broken, and she’s trying to fix it the only way she knows how. She does things because she cares too much, and that's why I care about her. That's why I love her.”

The air around her was still and silent when Hurley reached the cage of thorns. She place her hands on the arcane core, wrapping them in energy so pure that they burst into white fire. Then she dug her hands into the tangle of thorns and ripped them open, and it didn't hurt at all.

 

Inside of her nest of thorns, Sloane was curled into a ball. Her eyes were shut and her breathing slow; she would have looked like she was sleeping, if not for the ragged black marks that were slowly creeping along her skin, making her look like she was rotting from the inside out.

“Hurley?” Sloane’s eyes opened, and they were soft and brown and so, so scared.

“I’m here.” Hurley rushed to Sloane’s side, pulling her free from the thorns. “I’m right here Sloane. Stay with me.” She pulled Sloane tight in her arms, too afraid to let her go again.

“Mmm. You're comfortable.” Sloane mumbled into Hurley’s shoulder. “Like being held by my mom.” 

Hurley laughed as tears fell down her face and into Sloane’s hair. “You're safe. I’ve got you.”

Then she grasped the arcane core tightly, pulling every bit of energy that she could out of it, and letting it stir inside of her, mixing with her ki and swirling with the love that made her so fucking desperate to save the woman in her arms. She let it build and build, and with hands swirling with magic she tore the Gaia Sash from Sloane’s waist.

 

There was a blast of energy, like a bomb going off. Hurley felt herself soaring through air and her only thought she had was to hold Sloane tighter. If she was going to die, she was going to do it with Sloane in her arms.

 

They landed in the town center, where the rivers around Goldcliff collected before falling off into the abyss, and somehow they didn't even make a splash. Hurley was still holding Sloane tight in her arms, the Gaia Sash clenched in one shaking fist. The rivers of black in Sloane’s skin had leached most of natural color away. She was barely breathing.

Then the boys were there, approaching her slowly and watching her carefully. They seemed nervous, unsure is what to do next.

“Bane said you were specialists.” Hurley was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “Are there other items like this one?” 

“Yeah,” they mumbled, “a few.”

“Then don't let this happen again.”

 

Hurley took the Gaia Sash and threw it through the air. It arced and splashed down at the boys feet, and there was a moment of scrambling before someone put it in their bag. Hurley didn't stop to watch.

Instead she looked down to where Sloane was slumped in her arms.

“It's a good thing you made me practice healing,” she whispered.

She poured everything she had into Sloane, giving and giving and giving until the black lines faded and the color returned to Sloane's cheeks. Just as Sloane’s eyes began to open, Hurley slumped forward, laying her head on Sloane’s chest.

 

“You still can't heal without passing out, huh?” Sloane’s voice was just as clear as it was amused.

“Shut up,” Hurley yawned, “I saved your ass.” 

“I know you did, Hurls.” Sloane rubbed her hand in circles on Hurley’s back. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Hurley yawned again. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

In a pool in the middle of Goldcliff, the Raven and the Ram held each other close, alive and happy and safe. Far off a cliff, a pillar of vines collapsed into cherry blossoms. 


End file.
